


FIRE IN THE DISCO

by Lizzen



Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: F/F, Flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-29
Updated: 2016-10-29
Packaged: 2018-08-23 23:51:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8347684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lizzen/pseuds/Lizzen
Summary: “Erin, hi. So, there’s a problem and I need you. Fire house. Things could get bad. I need you. Quick.”“God, Holtz, what did you do.”





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sumi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sumi/gifts).



> i’m lost without A, my devout enabler, and petragem, my fabulous beta who fixed a broken scene so beautifully; xoxo
> 
> for: Sumi in the Femslash Exchange 2016

So this is how it happened.

*  
“God, Holtz, what did you do,” she says up at the ceiling. Erin rolls over on her side and breathes in and out a few times before getting out of bed.

Moments before: “Erin, hi. So, there’s a problem and I need you. Fire house. Things could get bad. I need you. Quick.” Dreams are still lingering in the periphery of her mind’s eye as this rapid fire announcement rings in her ear. Erin slurs out a “sure” and hangs up.

Here’s the thing: Holtzmann is often on her mind in the early hours of the day, just not the sort of “are you ending the world today” thoughts. See, Erin always starts the morning with her; it’s often breakfast at their favorite diner, or coffee and a problem to solve before Abby and Patty show up. Or sometimes it's a debate about an equation or a theory that starts on the phone and continues when they see each other at the fire house. But that all usually starts at a decent hour.

Not, you know, 4:03 a.m.

And now, this is important: there’s no funny business going on, of course. It’s just two scientists getting shit done together. Two heads are better than one, etc. BFFs, or something like that.

That’s why Erin’s getting out of bed this early. Well, that and Manhattan might blow up.

So, she forgoes a shower, throws her hair up in a messy bun and throws on her MIT sweatshirt.

So, she doesn’t carefully make a cup of tea, as much as she longs for one.

So, she cabs instead of walking, a reasonable splurge if mass causalities are imminent.

And soon it’s 4:42 and she's walking into the lab to find Holtzmann looking frazzled (which is not necessarily unusual) and her cheeks are a bright shade of red (definitely unusual).

There’s a steaming cup of coffee that she pushes into Erin’s hands. “Good. Okay. Whiteboard. Solve for x. Fast.”

Erin drinks first, her eyes still bleary with sleep. It’s perfectly made, exactly to her taste, and she hums out her pleasure. Holtzmann stares and then gestures manically. “Okay, okay, I’m on it,” Erin says, nodding her head and looking over to the whiteboard.

There’s an enormous equation. “Hoo boy,” she sighs out and gets to work.

*  
At a reasonable hour, Patty comes in with sweet buns and a broad smile before staring at the mess of equipment and Erin’s litany of tiny numbers on the whiteboard.

“So, uh, breakfast?” she says and something ugly growls in Erin’s stomach.

“God, yes,” Erin says, flipping her marker over her shoulder to reach greedily.

“Math, math, MATH,” Holtzmann shouts. And after a moment: “Math, OR DEATH!”

Patty turns towards her. “Something’s wrong with you, baby. Love you, but something’s wrong in your head.”

“Math!!” and then the blonde does a little shimmy before looking back at the circuit wiring mess in her lap. Erin smiles because it’s kinda cute; weird but cute.

Then she leans in towards Patty, “There’s a problem, something about the reactor about to leak and vaporize us all.” It kind of comes out all garbled as she’s stuffed her face with sugary bread.

“Y’all better get this right,” Patty says. “I got a date.”

Snickering, Erin nudges her shoulder and then gets back to work. “We’ve got this!”

“TEAMWORK,” Holtzmann yells from her corner.

Just as Erin feels the rise of fondness, she looks back at the equation and feels a new rising feeling: doom.

*  
But of course she solves it. Of course. When she figures out x, she proudly calls out the long number. Holtzmann wildly shoots finger guns at her before she plugs the number into her machine.

Erin rushes over and grabs hold of Holtzmann’s hand and holds her breath.

It makes a pathetic sort of hum and then a shudder and a shake. “Okay, now we’re just a little bit screwed. A little. Maybe just the block will explode.”

Squeezing tighter, Erin breathes out something “oh no” shaped.

“Okay, part one is done, turn the white board over,” Holtzmann says, and looks down at their hands entwined. “Uh.”

Erin looks at Holtzmann and laughs nervously as she lets go. “Sorry,” she says and heads directly to the white board to turn it over and find... a much larger equation.

“Now I need both x and y.”

“Oh cheese and crackers,” Erin mumbles and picks out a new dry erase marker.

*  
“What fresh hell is this, Jillian?” a voice says at the door. Both women look up and it’s Dr. Gorin, of all people, with her sleeves rolled up and a large bag that rattles heavily when she drops it on the ground.

Curious, Erin looks to Holtzmann to see her face lit up like it’s Christmas. “You came!” she says.

Dr. Gorin crosses her arms. “Of course I came. You said it was an emergency.”

With quick steps, Holtzmann is inches from her mentor before dropping to her knees to rummage through the bag. “Go help Erin, she’s stuck. I need these to keep the thing from, you know. Doing a bad thing.”

“I’m not—” Erin starts, but she can’t finish that sentence. She is stuck. Hopelessly stuck.

Eyes narrowed, Dr. Gorin appraises her carefully, gaze lingering long. “Dr. Gilbert.”

Erin waves awkwardly.

Dr. Gorin’s eyes narrow a fraction more.

*  
Working with Dr. Gorin is like riding a rollercoaster without a safety belt.

For one: Brilliant isn’t even the right word to describe her; maybe exceptional? Her mind works faster than light, it seems, as she scribbles calculations across the board without hesitation. It’s like Mozart; there are no mistakes, just a steady pace of brilliance. Erin often just stands back to stare, impressed beyond words.

For two: Cranky is exactly the right word to describe her. Not unkind, but— “Dr. Gilbert, you’re falling behind again!” – maybe a whole lot brusque and only a little bit of patience.

Erin’s having the time of her life, trying desperately to keep up with her; it’s a full on adrenaline rush from the challenge of it all.

Plus, there’s the chance for some serious intel gathering: “How long have you known Holtz—Jillian?” she asks as casually as she can fake it.

“All her life. And it’s 743 thousand, correct that immediately.”

“Neighbors?” she says as she fills in the number.

“We’re on the verge of destruction and you want to—oh, oh I got it!”

The minute Dr. Gorin adds seven more numbers, Erin’s figures it out too and they speedily scribble their way to a perfect set of answers. Quickly, Dr. Gorin writes the numbers neatly on a post it note which she gives to Holtzmann as Erin sort of bounces on her feet.

The numbers are typed in, and the machine rattles violently before coming to a completely still stop.

“YAHTZEE,” Holtzmann hollers with her hands up in the air. Then, with the flick of a switch, she turns up her radio and begins to dance to the ecstatic beat. Triumphant, Erin moves her feet as well, exhilarated from success. Also because, you know, there’s a giant vodka soda is in the very near future.

“C’mere!” Holtzmann says, grabbing her hands and her smile is brighter than the sun. Erin’s heart races a little as she twirls her a couple of times. 

Dizzy, she laughs breathlessly and calls out “Join in!” to Dr. Gorin, who is staring...staring blankly at the machine.

Holtzmann stops, looks at Dr. Gorin’s face and then back at the machine. “Yes, yes, now that we’ve got the numbers, we still have to fix the machine,” she says.

It’s a record scratch to the head. “W-what?”

*  
Particle physics and engineering don’t often mix, so she’s a little out of her element as Holtzmann and Dr. Gorin flip levers, unscrew and screw in bolts, and cross feed various wirings. She’d be likely dismissed if it wasn’t for the need of hands to hold things, screw things, open and close things.

“Soooo, neighbors?” Erin asks again, shoulder to shoulder with Dr. Gorin as they work with a remarkably chaotic spread of circuits.

Dr. Gorin sniffs as if slighted. “Not exactly,” she says. “How long have _you_ known Jillian?”

Erin looks at Holtzmann and smiles. “A few months I guess.” Holtzmann looks up and blushes a little, which is odd but whatever.

(It’s actually six months. But see, Erin tracks time differently now. By the number of difficult equations she solves, how many ghosts she’s brought down, how often Holtzmann sets fire to the lab. Time seems to fly now in these strange and wonderful days.)

“In a week, it’s the anniversary of our first ghost together and Patty’s throwing a party,” Holtzmann adds helpfully.

“You should come!” Erin says because, uh, awkward, and why not. She ignores the look Dr. Gorin gives her. “Our first ghost was something else, creepy as hell. It was a classic class four apparition. Distinct human form.”

“He was gorgeous,” Holtzmann adds. “Erin disintegrated him later. It was awesome.”

“Not before someone here made me test seriously unstable equipment on him.”

“I had to find out if you were cool or not.”

A smile threatens to grown on Erin's lips but she fights it, oh she fights it. “So, you’re saying I’m cool.”

“No one who owns as much tweed as you is ‘cool’.”

Dr. Gorin makes a little sound at the back of her throat before interrupting with a detailed question about the machine that locks up ghosts away from this plane of existence. Erin quickly answers first before Holtzmann chimes in and it’s just—it’s a lovely back and forth. And it’s so nice to talk like this to someone who understands what they’re saying. Someone who cares. 

Erin feels an overwhelming sensation of comfort until she remembers that if they make a mistake, everyone’s toast.

*  
Abby walks in and assesses the situation. “You geniuses have this handled, right?”

“Totally. Get out of here,” Holtzmann says with an airy wave. 

Erin is in the middle of listening to another blistering comment from Dr. Gorin, otherwise she'd say, “Yes, Abby, a little help here. Help!” 

But by the time Dr. Gorin is through with her and is working with a blissfully benign look on her face, Abby's out the door.

*  
When it’s seven sharp, the machine beeps rapidly and shudders, and then the lights blink in a steady rhythm.

Dr. Gorin watches this for a long moment while Erin and Holtzmann high five behind her. Then the older woman rises to her full height and stares down her nose at Holtzmann’s glowing face. “Jilly. If you wanted me to meet your girlfriend, you could have just invited us all out to dinner.”

Something cold and then incredibly hot runs through Erin’s veins and she watches Holtzmann’s face turn pale.

“I—”

“And you don't have to prove to me she's a brilliant mathematician and scientist. I know. She's an asset to modern physics. I've been reading her work for years.”

Erin opens her mouth and a little “oh” sound comes out.

“Yes. It’s quite good,” Dr. Gorin says, looking at her sharply before turning back. “Now that this farce is over, I’m tired. We’ll all have a civilized breakfast in the morning.”

She turns on her heels and is gone before a response can stutter out of Erin’s mouth.

“Was this all a hoax?”

“N-no?” Holtzmann breathes. “Legit possibility of vaporization.” And she bites her lip, a rising blush in her cheeks, and she shrugs as if caught. “Are we, though?”

“Are we what?”

“Girlfriends? A little bit?”

Erin sighs out and there’s a “no” blossoming out of her, rising up her throat to be voiced but she’s thinking. Thinking about how her actions and her feelings say something, say something mostly platonic. Mostly.

“Are we?” she says instead.

Holtzmann’s eyes light up and in a different voice all together, something a lot lower: “Can we?”

It’s not that simple, Erin thinks, considering that she’s never seriously dated a woman before, never mind a friend. She doesn’t even know if she— “Buy me a drink first,” comes out before she can stop the words roaring out of her mouth.

Clapping her hands together, Holtzmann looks delighted. “Save Manhattan and get the girl, best day ever.”

-


End file.
